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Friday, January 31, 2014

WANTED ACROSS TIME by Eugenia Riley

Bounty hunter Sam Noble always gets his woman . . . even if he has to travel across time to find her.

Annie Dillon’s fondest hope is to transform a Texas ghost town into a
tourist mecca. But she arrives in Deadend to find her town, and her
finances, in a shambles. Then a sudden, violent whirlwind howls through
the town, sweeping in a tall, wickedly handsome cowboy.

Colorado bounty hunter Sam Noble is here in Texas to nab a notorious
female desperado. Waving an ancient-looking wanted poster in Annie’s
face, Sam insists she is “Rotten Rosie” Dillon—an Old West outlaw who
just happens to be Annie’s great-great-grandmother! Hushing her
protests, Sam grabs Annie and carries her off on horseback . . . and
across time.

Annie is flabbergasted. Who is this loco stranger who has kidnapped
her? Why is he saying they are now living in the year 1885? And why is
he claiming she is her own ancestor, “Wanted Dead or Alive” for murder?
Worse yet, Sam refuses to believe he has arrested the wrong woman, and
is determined to take Annie off to justice, and a certain hanging, in
Central City. In order to gain her freedom, Annie knows she must win
Sam’s trust and find the “real” Rosie. But will the potent chemistry she
and Sam are feeling sweep them up into a sensual whirlwind neither will
want to escape?

WANTED ACROSS TIME is a jewel of a western time-travel romance from
the author of BUSHWHACKED BRIDE and BUSHWHACKED GROOM. It is filled with
sexy escapades, Indian lore, and the true spirit of the Wild West.

Excerpt:

She’s
stuck in Deadend, Texas, in the present. But the past is about to
crash in on her...

Annie was about to
leave the saloon when the wind began to roar even more savagely; she
cried out in fear as the front doors blasted open and a chair sailed
across the room toward her. She dashed out of the missile's path and
covered her face with her forearms as all around her timbers began to
rattle and shriek and glass shattered; she feared a tornado was
brewing.

Was this what old
Windfoot had meant by "the whirlwind"? Indeed, the wind now
roared so violently that chairs and even tables were sailing about
like so many matchsticks!

Annie staggered
across the room, gripped the front door handles, and tried to push
them closed. Standing there trembling, boot heels dug into the floor
and body lashed by the wind, she felt as if she were wrestling a
demon. After several moments of frustrating struggle, she gave up and
retreated, dodging flying debris as she dived behind the bar, where
she cowered as the terrible howling and crashing continued.

Then a large bulky
object thudded onto her back, prompting her to cry out in fear and
pain. Shoving the item away, she saw that the portrait of the naked
beauty had landed on top of her. The hussy was still smirking,
mocking her.

Damn it, not even
her hiding spot was safe!

Annie struggled to
her feet. Whirling toward the wall to dodge a rusty beer can hurtling
toward her, she suddenly found herself face-to-face with an
ancient-looking wanted poster that had been concealed behind the
painting.

What in hell . . .
! With a gasp, Annie recognized the picture on the poster as that of
her own great-great-grandmother, the ancestor she'd been thinking of
mere seconds earlier, a woman whose face was so much like her own.
What on earth was going on?

Annie's ancestor
was glowering back, her pretty features fearsomely set, her long hair
in pigtails. Wide-eyed, Annie read the caption: "Wanted, Dead or
Alive, for Murder and Other Crimes Most Foul: Rotten Rosie Dillon."

"Rotten
Rosie!" Annie cried.

She was appalled,
not sure what to make of the wanted poster, which was yellowed and
curled, and did appear quite old and authentic. But the notice made
no sense: Her great-great-grandmother had been a grand lady, never an
outlaw or a murderess! And why was she looking at the amazing wanted
poster mere seconds after thinking about Rosanna?

Before Annie could
further contemplate the mystery, she was distracted by a banging
behind her. She spun about just as the saloon doors crashed against
the wall and a huge, ruggedly handsome man strode in. The very sight
of him put a shiver down her spine.

The stranger was
dressed in old-fashioned buckskins and wore a large round brown hat
with a snakeskin band and an eagle feather at the back. He sported
dark, collar-length hair and a short, scruffy beard. He held a
Winchester rifle in one hand and a crumpled piece of paper in the
other. The wind whipped his buckskins about a massive, hard-muscled
frame that oozed menace. A huge Colt was strapped to one sinewy
thigh, a long knife to the other.

And his eyes! Even
from across the room, Annie could tell they were dark and ruthless.
That merciless gaze was fixed on her with riveting intensity; the man
radiated an aura of danger and raw sensuality that staggered her on a
deep, elemental level.

There was
something almost savage about his visage, and she wondered if he
might be part Indian. Indeed, he appeared as if he had materialized
from another time or had been lost in the wilderness for ages. Could
he be a rancher from the area? If so, that would explain the rifle.
But his manner of dress was so bizarre!

As the wind
quieted a bit, he spoke in a deep, charged voice. "Step out from
'round that bar, sister. Slow like." He pointed his rifle toward
her.

Annie gulped.
Although it wasn't that unusual to see a man with a rifle in these
parts, having it pointed at her was another matter altogether!
Nonetheless, she lifted her chin, stepped forward, and faced the
newcomer with bravado. "Well, hello, mister. Who are you? And
hasn't anyone told you it's a federal offense to possess eagle
feathers?"

Appearing less
than amused, the man uncrumpled and held up the piece of paper; Annie
was astounded to see was a newer-looking copy of the very wanted
poster she'd just spotted hanging above the bar!

The stranger
laughed and shoved the poster into his coat pocket. "Well,
that's an original story if I ever heard one. Come on, sister, let's
go. My grandpappy always said you gotta reap what you sow. You broke
the law and I'm hauling you in. I've come a long way to find you, and
it's time for us to head out."

"To Colorado?
To justice? Are you out of your mind? Why, that's the craziest—"

Annie stopped cold
as the man lifted his rifle, threw the lever, and chambered a round.
"All right, lady, enough palavering. Get your butt moving out
the saloon doors. You're wanted dead or alive, and it makes no
nevermind to me which way you go."

Annie's heart
galloped with fear. Oh, God, this nutcase was serious! Clearly he was
prepared to kill her if she didn't cooperate. What kind of lunatic
was he? She observed the deadly determination in his stance, his
eyes, the rifle in his huge, tanned hands. Although she'd been
trained in self-defense, she knew a no-win situation when she saw
one, and realized her only recourse was to humor this maniac.

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